


Violin meetings

by Readerstories



Series: Multi-chapter fics [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Reader-Insert, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4763354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readerstories/pseuds/Readerstories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I feel like in fanfics the reader have a tendency to want the bad guy to be good. I rather want someone that might not embrace the darkness fully, but at least doesn't mind.</p><p>This starts after the first season, the other seasons don't apply to this work.</p><p>Please take into consideration that my first language is not english, so there will probably be some stupid mistakes :P</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction and first meetings

Gotham, a city full of promise, was what people had told you when you had asked. Go there, it will be better they had said. So you had. You had taken your only possessions, the violin, and bag of clothes and other necessities, spent most your last money on a bus ticket there; looking forward to get away from your own city to a new and better one. Or so you had hoped and oh, how wrong you had been.

Stepping of the bus your first impression was good. The streets looked pretty decent, little garbage around and just small amounts of graffiti. You had seen much worse, you liked the change. You had started walking down the street, and already you could see how your eyes devices you. Looking down the alleys you saw a lot of homeless people and what you assumed was drug addicts. With a sinking feeling you kept walking. Maybe you weren’t in the right side of town. After walking around for almost an hour your mind settled on that the decent look was only surface deep. In every alley there were either homeless people, drug addicts, wild animals or a mix of them all. You sighed; this would be just like your own city.

After walking aimlessly across the city until dark, you decide to find a place to sleep. You find an alley with a fire escape, and climb up on the roof. Most of the time there’s no one up there, and it seems like it is that way here too. Seeing no sign of other human life, you hunker down behind what looks like an air duct. You put down your bag and lay your head down, and pull your jacket over you. The violin case you hug tight, a habit formed over the last couple months to prevent it from being stolen. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

The next day you do as you have done for a long time. You get up, brush your teeth with water from your bottle, eat an apple from your food supply, and set out to find a place to play. You need money, especially now that your food supply is running low (one pack of cookies and one with chips is all that’s left). You find a nice spot close to another bus stop and next to some shops. It looks like it might get busy later, even though now the only activity in the area is you and a cat rummaging through the trash. You start with something soft and simple, leering your head wake up with some routine.

The more you play, the more you wake up and so does the world around you. First there are just some homeless people, but then the normal crowd begins to come. First there are the earliest morning birds. They don’t pay much attention to you, just rush past in a blur of grey and black with suitcases. Then comes the shop keepers, they just nod at you, like you have always been there. Most of them don’t seem to mind, the rarely do. Then some more business people appears, but not as stressed as the earlier ones. Some of them even take time to stop and listen to you, dropping some money in the violin case before moving on.

Around midday you have close to 20 dollars, but you want to play some more before getting food, you can manage that. It’s that moment you notice him. Most people are just a blur when moving past you, but he stands out with his black suit, black hair and pale face. It’s not only the look or the fast pace he keeps (even with a limp), but also the way the crowd part around him and the other man to let them pass. It’s like they do not want to come to close to him. You get why.

Even if he looks harmless at first glance, he radiates a sense of danger and anger when you look closer. Those two together are never good, so you avert your gaze and let it become unfocused again like before. He passes you without even a glance and you hear him mutter something about shooting and money, but you try to forget it as soon as he passes. It seems wise. It’s only when he’s out of sight you notice your playing has slowed and that you have been holding your breath. You let yourself breathe again, wondering if you will ever see him again. You hope you won’t, but at the same time you do. He seemed exciting.

Oswald doesn’t think much about the violin player he passed on the street earlier in the day, until one of his men ask what melody he his whistling while checking the bar. When he realises it was what the violinist was playing when he passed her, he smiles to himself. Weird how random things stick.


	2. Second and thirds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet again and this time it's an actual meeting. Sort of.

The next time you see him is a few days after your first. You have been trying out different places, and decided the night before that the first place was the best. You had tried next to some restaurants (very bad idea, angry owners), next to some offices (way to busy people to stop and give you anything), and next to some other shops (way to high up apparently, they had threatened to call the cops). So you returned, both to this spot and your sleeping space up on the roof, now with a cardboard box and plastic sheet too. The shop owners don’t seem to mind here. They only think it is nice to have something different to listen to for once in a while apparently.

This time, you don’t immediately spot him. You are making faces at a kid looking bored out of his kind together with his mom. You are playing a cover of Skyfall, a song you can play almost automatically. When a bus comes and the boy is pulled away with a last smile to you, only then do you notice him. He’s walking slower this time, but with the same man as before. He looks like in less of a hurry, but still as dangerous as before. Yet again you try not to look his way, and partially fail. You can help yourself and steel a few glances, and hope he doesn’t notice- when he comes closer he begins to rummage around in his pocket, the without looking, drops a 20 dollar note in your case. You look at it, astounded that someone would give you so much without even stopping to listen. You think of yourself as a decent violinist, but you are not that good. You try to make eye contact with him to say thank you, but all you can see is the back of his head disappear in the large crowd.

After that you don’t see him for a few days.You stay in the same spot, yet you never catch a glimpse of him. He’s probably a busy man and most likely doesn’t live in the area, so you guess he has some other motive for coming here. It might just also be that you just haven’t spotted him when he was there, you do have to eat and buy supplies once in a while. The third time is even more accidental than the second and first. You had decided to walk around the neighbourhood late at night and that have been a colossally bad idea.

At the moment you are running down an alley, a man with a knife chasing you. He had jumped out of nowhere and demanded all of your valuables. Without anything valuables except from your violin, and no weapons, you had done the only thing that seemed logical and ran. Hugging the case close to your chest, you feel glad that you at least left the bag at your roof space. Glad there’s one less thing slowing you down, you frantically look for anything to defend yourself with. There’s nothing, not even a steel pipe like in video games. Turning the corner to escape to the street you came to an abrupt halt when you crash in to someone. A hand takes hold of your arm, but you quickly twist out of the hold and grab the object nearest to you.

This happens to be the umbrella to the guy you collided with, and without much thought you swing at the hand that held you (you hear slight thump and then a groan), and next you twist around to clock the guy chasing you over the head with the hard handle. He falls down and lies completely still. There’s a stunned silence, the only thing that can be heard over the city noises are your heavy breathing. You straighten yourself up from where you had been leaning slightly forward.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to cause any harm to you guys, instinct more than anything;” you say with a smile, finally looking at the guy you collided with. You freeze when you realize it’s the guy you have been seeing and thinking about for the last few weeks. He starts to open his mouth, but you cut him off before he can say anything.

“Hey, you were the guy that gave me the twenty earlier this week. Thank you so much, it helped a lot! Sorry about your umbrella, not my intention to ruin it.” You give it to him, and he takes it, turning it around to assess the damage. He will need to by a new one, this one is bent pretty badly, and you think the handle might be cracked. You turn to leave, jogging over to the fire escape and begin to climb up.

“And by the way, can you guys make sure the guy gets to the hospital? He might have a concussion, and it’s not good to walk around with that stuff.” You ask over your shoulder. You have had one yourself, it was the worst. The man with the umbrella speaks up.

“I will, although I don’t think he deserves it.” The voice is alluring, and fits him very well. It’s nice to have something else to remember him as, not just as a man in the crowd.

“Give him a break; he was just trying to care for himself. It wasn’t the best way exactly, but life is though out here on the street. Bye!” With that you are up on roof, and with a last wave you disappear out of sight.

“Boss, why didn’t you let me stop her? She could have been dangerous.” The man that you hit says, rubbing his stomach and making a face of discomfort.

“I have my reasons, she seemed harmless enough. Let’s continue on our way, we have a lot to do. Getting a new umbrella is now one of them. Come on.” The body guard just nods and begins walking again. Oswald will not admit that he finds the girl intriguing, not yet anyway, he will see what the future holds first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our power went out, so I wrote this with flickering candles next to me.  
> I actually don't know how long this is going to be, I'm just kinda making it up as I go, but I think it will be at least a few chapters long. Let's see what the future holds :)


	3. Stringbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another meeting with Oswald. Hope you lke it :)

A string breaking was a pretty normal thing to happen, and you couldn’t actually remember the last time it happened, so you weren’t that surprised when the E-string breaks. Nevertheless it couldn’t have come at a worse time. The day before hadn’t been that well paid, and you had just used your last money from that to buy some food and drink. You would have to steal it instead. You knew how to steal, so it wasn’t that much of a problem. But you didn’t care much for it. It felt very wrong to take something that wasn’t absolutely necessary. Luckily for you, you had actually seen a music shop nearby not long after you came to Gotham. You had only passed it and not entered, so you hoped it was possible to steal from it, hopefully there wasn’t too many cameras there. You started to walk in the direction you think it might be.

After walking for about 30 minutes you finally find it. You hadn’t actually been that far off, only having to ask one person for directions. Walking inside, you quickly take in your surroundings, mapping out the store in your head. Only two visible cameras, one covering the front door, the other the register. It seems like none of them cover the violin related things, which are more or less tucked away in a corner. You try to be as discreet and make as little sound as possible. It’s only you and the one other person in the shop, an older man sitting at the register reading a book. It’s probably the owner, since the store doesn’t seem to do so well. Yet you hope that he won’t notice you taking the string if you are quiet and discreet.

At first you pretend to just browse, just being yet another person seeking shelter from the grey weather for a few minutes. It works very well; the owner doesn’t look at you once. After about five minutes you reach your target and you quickly look after the one you need. It’s hanging in the middle of the row, ready for you to take. You know you could take a cheaper one, but that would just hurt yourself and you would have to change it sooner. You check if the owner is still reading his book. He is, you discreetly sneak the string into your pocket     and keep browsing like nothing have happened. Yet another five minutes and you are almost out again. You are pretty much next to the door when the owner speaks.

“You should pay for that you know.” You still completely, not even breathing. Then, in a blink of an eye, you are running for the door. You would have made it if it wasn’t for the body you collide with when you open the door. A strong hand grips your arm, dragging you in and spinning you around, away from the door.

“What is happening here?” the big man asks the shop owner.

“They are stealing, look in the pockets!” You feel more than see him looking at you, since you are more focused on getting out of the strong grip of your capturer. Then to your dread you feel him slipping his hand into your pocket, pulling out the e-string.

“Hey, give it back! I need that!”

“No you don’t need it you motherfucker! That is 50 dollars that you for sure haven’t paid!” the storeowner yell back at you.

“I’ll pay for it,” a fourth voice interrupts. It seems familiar and you soon see why. It’s the man again, the one that had given you the money and whose umbrella you had ruined. He had been behind the big man with yet another behind him (not the same as last time). You think they might be his bodyguards.

“You know that thief?” The store owner seems puzzled. The guards do too, but they say nothing.

“Yes we have... run into each other before. We have apparently made it into a habit of meeting in slightly inconvenient ways. It’s been a while though, so it’s nice to see you again.” He sends you a slight smile before refocusing on the owner again.

“It was 50 dollars you say? Let’s say 60 dollars, since I don’t want to start this relationship off on the wrong foot. We were after all here in the first place for a reason.” He pulls out a wallet from an inside pocket, walking over to the counter, slapping down three 20 dollar bills. The owner seems happy with this course of action and nods at the man. Making money and the possibility of making even more later quieted any protest he might have had. The man turns back to you (you notice absently that he has gotten a new umbrella), and walks over.

“You can let them go and give back the string now Butch.” The man, aptly named Butch, releases his grip and gives you the string. You snatch it, worried that they might change their mind.

“I actually never got your name during our last meetings. Mine is Oswald Cobblepot, what is yours?” He reaches out his hand for you to take, and you do. It’s slightly cold from being outside, but soft. However, you don’t say your name, only a quick thank you, and then you sprint for the door. Butch misses you, but the other bodyguard gets hold of your shoulder. As a reflex response you kick him in the crotch. He lets go and before anyone can react you are out the door and down the street.

You look behind yourself serval times while running away. No one is following you, but you don’t slow down before you are almost back at your base. So the man’s name was Oswald Cobblepot huh. Fitting name actually and it was nice to finally have a name to the face. You just hoped he wasn’t too offended that you haven’t given your name. You just didn’t want anyone to know and you had also panicked a little. It had been a strange situation and you had reacted out of pure instinct, something that had been necessary when living like you did. Hopefully you would get the opportunity to say thank you better, and say sorry at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actally know very little about violins, so I just found some information on google. It seemed like it was most normal for the E-string to break so I just used that. Price was varying, so I just chose a high price :P


	4. Scrapes and rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fourth meeting goes slightly diffrently that the last ones.

Oswald hasn’t seen the violin player in a few days. Despite what Butch says, he does not care about some random person he has only met three times. His mother had just been very lonely recently, so he felt he needed to visit more often. Of course he didn’t go to his mother just in the hopes to see some dumb street rat, what absolute nonsense. He would never! But he missed the violin player nonetheless; he liked the melodies they played. He hoped they would return soon.

You have never felt lower down in your life. Not even when you first ended up on the streets. At least you had some comfort in having something dear and familiar with you. Now you haven’t even got that. You had been walking to your base, happy with the day’s earnings. You had apparently looked a little too happy, because after just walking a short time from your playing spot, two men attack you. They quickly overpower you, throwing you on the ground, and taking the violin case. They open it; quickly spotting the money you have put in a small, clear, plastic bag and take it.

They flip the case around too look for more money, letting the violin fall to the ground and break. You see the whole thing in slow motion, dizzy from where you hit your head on the pavement. The wood sprays over the ground and your attackers’ feet, the neck and strings coming towards you, landing in a puddle. Finding no more money, they kick the case in frustration, and then kick you a few times for good measure. The whole thing had left you sore and full of scrapes and cuts, a few in your face that still haven’t faded. You had used most of your mini med kit that that, which only consisted of a few Band-Aids, bandages, and painkillers,

Now, the only dear thing you have left is the violin case. The once dark brown leather is more light brown now, looking torn and frayed. The only use you have for it now is when you beg for money, having nothing else to turn too. You have tried applying for several jobs, but they can see you for the street rat you are, so they turn you away. You haven’t returned to your playing spot, mostly because you think you might get thrown away.

But a small part of you don’t want Oswald to see you like this. He would be so mad that his “investment” of sorts had gone to waste. But you don’t know that for sure, but you assume that is the way he would react if he saw you without the violin. So you moved, now you spend most of your days begging outside some kiosks and apartment complexes in an even dirtier part of town.

It’s raining in Gotham, well more like pouring. The sky is often grey, but it has been a while since the last proper rainfall, so there are probably a lot of happy plants out there right now. You on the other hand, are not. Leaning against a wall, you curl into yourself under the plastic sheet you have to protect yourself from the masses falling from above. Your case lays in front of you closed, but with a plastic sheet over it to keep it dry.

There are a few coins on top of it, 3 dollars and 37 cents to be exact. You have counted them over and over again, having nothing else to do while you sit there. There’s almost no one out, and most or in too much of a hurry trying to get away from the assault of the rain to even spare you a glance. Your bag is next to you, also covered by the sheet. You feel the need to keep  it close at all times now, not wanting to lose anything of the little you have left in this world.

You hear footsteps and voices nearing you, but don’t bother to look up. You know whoever it is; they will pass you, and not even think about you for more than a second. So when the voices silences and the footsteps stop, you feel curios enough to look up from your shoes. The faces that meets you makes you stiffen up completely. It’s Oswald and Butch, both dressed in suits, Oswald’s completely black, Butch with grey stripes. You note to yourself that Oswald is actually using the same umbrella as last time, so it’s not for decoration then. For some reason Oswald is furrowing his brows, he almost looks…. Concerned. Not what you had expected.

“What are you doing down there? Why aren’t you playing? And what happened to your face?” Oswald fires off all these questions in a quick session, not letting you room for answering. You take your time when he finally stops, opening and closing your mouth a few times, making him wait for several minutes. He lets you, just waiting, the only sounds being the thundering rain on the umbrellas, and the few cars driving past.

“I’m begging for money, I don’t have the violin anymore since some street tugs broke it when they attacked me.” You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction. Butch seems to do the same, glancing in-between you and Oswald. His grip on the umbrella tightens; you hear the leather of his glove creak. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, before releasing it slowly. Opening his eyes again, you see anger in his eyes, but also something like sadness.

“What a shame, I really liked to hear you play. Oh well, I guess it can be helped then.” He extends his hands towards you. Confused, you look at his hand, then his face, and back to his face. He curls his hand, making a grabby gesture. You finally take it, and he pulls you up. You are quick to snatch your bag with you, wanting it to keep dry.

“What can’t be helped?” you ask, letting go of his hand.

“I’m bringing you back to my base. Stop, before you say anything let me speak. You can go anytime you want, but you look like you could probably need a shower, and maybe even a visit from a doctor. So you can come if you want to, but do feel free to stay here if that is what you want.” His tone sounds like he already know what you will choose. A shower sounds way too tempting to pass up.

“I’ll go, but I’m gonna leave right after that shower.” Oswald nods, looking over to Butch.

“You can handle that deal on your own, can’t you Butch?” Butch doesn’t even bother to vocalize his answer, just nodding, and starting to walk in the same direction as they were going before. You follow him with your eyes until he disappears around a corner. Turning back to look at Oswald, you catch him staring at you.

“What?” you tilt your head, wondering why he is trying to stare holes into your skull.

“I was just thinking about what I would do to those tugs that beat you if I ever got hold of them.” You doubt it’s anything good, judging by the anger and resentment on his face. Waving a hand, you shrug and give him a smile.

“Nah, its fine. I don’t even know who they were so I probably couldn’t find them even if I wanted to.” Oswald takes another deep breath, letting his shoulders drop slightly.

“Oh well. And while we are on the topic of names, you have yet to give me yours.” You blush, feeling heat rise to your cheeks remembering the last time you met. You quickly give it to him, but only your first name. He hums.

“No last name?”

“I’d rather not remember or use that, so no. Just one name for me.” He smiles, bending down to pick up your violin case, letting the plastic sheet fall off. You do the same to the one over you, you know you can find a new one later, there are a lot of construction sites in the city.

“Come on, let’s go to my car, it’s just a few blocks away. I parked it there to walk.”

“Why? Isn’t it better to drive wherever you are going in this weather?”

“The car would stick out way too much, so no. Plus I like the rain.”

You chuckle, one thing you couldn’t disagree on more. He gives you a look, but doesn’t ask. You don’t talk, the only sounds coming from the city around you, and the rain covering it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever, but school has been killing my creativity. D:  
> But it's Christmas break soon, so hopefully I can charge up a little then!


	5. Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald takes you to his car, and there our story starts.

Oswald had led you to his car and had been right, the car was black, shiny and looked new; it would have been sticking out like a sore thumb. He had opened the door, letting you go in first before sliding in after you, keeping the violin case in his lap. There’s a guy in front, dressed in a fancy suit, Oswald simply tells him to go back to the base. The man starts the car, swiftly slipping into the traffic. The radio automatically turns on, so there’s some low music playing in the car, but other than that it’s silent.

Oswald doesn’t try to start a conversation, and neither do you, you don’t really want too. You suspect Oswald senses this, so he lets you keep silent and stare out of the window. You try to make a small map in your head, while fiddling with the straps on your bag, so you can find your way back.

After 20 minutes, you reach a big building in-between what looks like offices. The building looks just like the others, completely normal. You wouldn’t have given it a second glance if you passed it by yourself. Now you are finding yourself entering it with a strange man you know nothing about except his name, and his chauffeur. The door that opens leads into an underground car garage, several different cars (most of them black) lined up next to each other. Oswald opens the door, slipping out with the case and holding the door for you again. You carefully step out, making sure to bring your bag with you. You don’t really know if you should say anything or if you should do something.

Oswald makes that decision for you, starting to walk towards some elevator doors. You are quick to follow him, he probably expects you to follow since he hasn’t said anything else. On the inside it looks a bit fancier than the silver doors led on. The wall is covered half in what looks like black leather and golden buttons of metal, the other half is covered in mirrors. A golden handrail wraps around the whole elevator, right were the leather and mirror is separated. You stare at your shoes, not knowing where else to look. The grey carpet looks mismatched with your dirty and wet shoes. Oswald presses a button and the door slides shut with a soft whoosh.

The chauffeur hadn’t joined you, so it’s just the two of you together. Oswald doesn’t say anything now either, but you can feel him staring at you. You shuffle your feet, trying to work up some courage to say something. The elevator plings just then, alerting you that you have arrived at your destination. Oswald steps out in front of you and you find yourself following him yet again, this time down a long hallway in much the same décor as the elevator, although the leather and wood have been replaced by wallpaper. There are several doors on each side, some of them are open. You glimpse what looks like a kitchen through one of them; most are closed though, so there isn’t much to see.

Oswald leads you down the hallway, which has two doors in dark oak at the end. Opening them, he strides into the room on the other side, leaving you no choice but to follow, albeit slightly slower and quieter. How he manages to walk with such haste with that leg is still a wonder to you. Inside the room there’s a fireplace and a big table with several chairs around it, one bigger than the other and almost looking like a throne. There’s a bunch of people gathered around the end of the table next to it, papers and pens scattered around them. They all look up in surprise when Oswald opens the door, almost in sync (you can’t help it and have to hold back a giggle). As he comes closer, they all scramble to get out their chairs and greet him.

“Mr Penguin, I didn’t know you would get back so soon!”

“Penguin, why are you here?”

“Didn’t you say you were gonna be gone a while?”

“Where’s Butch?”

“Did something go wrong?” They all ask these questions at the same time, making it sound like babbling. Oswald puts the violin case down and raises his hands, making them all go quiet and wait for him to speak.

“Thank you for your concern. I am fine, and so is Butch. Everything is fine. But something came up, so plans were changed. Say hello to our new house guest.” At this he gestures to you and you feel five new pair of eyes boring into you. You give a small wave, not really knowing what to do. It’s apparently your thing at the moment. All of them and you focus back on Oswald when he claps his hands.

“Now, let us get things done. You,” he says, pointing to a girl with black and blond striped air.

“You go find her some clothes and drop them off in the blue guest room. You,” he points to a guy with snake piercings and dark brown fringe.

“You lead our lovely guest to the doctor’s office. I want them checked out top to toe for anything and everything.” Before you can even protest (you have no dangerous diseases, thank you very much), Oswald turns to you with a smile.

“Not that I think you have anything, it’s just a safety measure for us all, including yourself.”

“Okay, that sounds fair.” He smiles, seeming pleased that he got a verbal response out of you. The boy goes to another, smaller door that you hadn’t seen, and opens it for you, mentioning for you to enter. You do so; he follows closely behind and closes the door. The door leads into yet another hallway, this one is smaller than the previous one. He knocks on the second door to the right, waiting for an answer. You see a small brass plaque wit “Dr.Hewitt” inscribed on it in formal lettering.

There’s a sound from the other side of the door just then, it sounds like someone is inviting you in. The boy opens the door, going inside, leaving the door open so you can follow. You do just that and come into what looks like a fully-fledged doctor’s office, one woman sitting behind a desk, writing something into a computer.

“Mr Penguin wants you this give this guest a check-up.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder in your direction. You meet the eyes of the doctor, just for a brief moment before her focus goes back to the boy.

“Okay, you can go then, so shoo with you.” The doctor waves her hand at the boy, and he quickly slips out the door, closing the door behind him. This leaves you all alone with doctor Hewitt and at loss for what to do. The doctor solves that dilemma for you by telling you to sit down on the bed pushed into the wall. You do so, dropping the bag next to you the floor. She pulls her chair out from her desk, rolling it so she sits I front of you, but far enough away to not invade your personal space.

“First, I’ll ask you what I ask everyone that comes to me for a check. Do you have any diseases you know about?” You shake your head.

“Okay, any allergies?” Another shake of your head, and she hums.

“Okay, then I’ll go right t checking those wounds on your face.” This isn’t a question, just a simple statement. She goes into a cabinet, pulling out some things. She comes back, this time right in front of you.

“How did you get these?” You hiss when she dabs the wounds with cotton soaked in cleansing fluid, cleaning them, but making them sting.

“I got into a fight. Not on purpose though, and it was more like an attack really.”

“Any other injuries?” she asks while throwing away the cotton, which has some red dots of blood on it.

“I got a few bruises, and they kicked my head, but I’m good.”

“Sure, but let me look at them just to be safe.” You pull your sweater over your head, the t-shirt underneath soon following. You aren’t really shy taking of your clothes, and it’s easier for the doctor to see the bruises this way. They are of varying sizes, and in different phases of healing. The doctor pokes and prods and you let her, only letting out a small hiss now and then. After a few minutes she stops, going back to another cabinet, this one see-through and filled with bottles and boxes. She takes out a bottle, and reads the label before throwing it to you. Mostly out of reflex, you manage to catch it.

“Nothing seems to be broken, so you should let them heal and take some pain killers once in a while. One or two a day, depending on how you are feeling.”

“That’s what I have been doing, well, when I could get some at least.” You put your t-shirt and sweater back on, meeting her gaze again. Her eyes seem kind, and her smile is too.

“I knew you were a street rat, seen a few in here before. Mr Penguin has a soft spot for them.” The street rat part doesn’t bother you at all, you have long since embraced that term, but it’s weird to think about yourself as a “soft spot”. You can’t really see why Oswald would have one for anyone, much less you. You don’t voice this thought out loud however, instead asking about something else that you have been wondering about.

“Why do people keep calling him Penguin?”

“Well, you have seen him walk haven’t you? The way he walks reminds people of one, so it became his nickname. I have heard he used to hate it, but he has embraced it a lot more now I think.” You nod, not really knowing what to do with this information. It was true that the limp was very noticeable, but you hadn’t really thought that much about it and what it looked like. Suddenly there’s a knock on the door. The doctor yells to come in to whoever is on the other side of the door, and in comes the girl from earlier, the one that was going to find clothes to you.

“The clothes are waiting for you in the blue guest room, and Mr Penguin said that you should feel free to take a shower in the adjoining bathroom before changing. If you would follow me…” The girl gestures towards the open door. You give a quick thank you to the doctor, before grabbing your bag and leaving the room. The girl follow quickly behind, slipping in front of you, leading you to another door, this one revealing stairs. You follow her up into another hallway. You could easily get lost here you think yourself while following the girl to a door marked with a silver B.

“Here you go, I will come back later to get you, okay?” You nod, and she turns, leaving the way you just came. You stare at the door for a few second before opening it. Inside there’s a king-sized bed right in front you covered in blue blankets and filled with many pillows of different shades of blue. There’s a dresser next to the door, one wall is mostly a big window, the remaining wall has a painting of a storming sea and a door, which you presume leads into the bathroom.

You close the door behind you, dropping your bag next to the dresser. Opening the second door, you thoughts are proven right when you find a big bathroom done is whites and blues. There are some clothes and some fuzzy towels on a small bench in there, but what catches your eyes the most is the shower. It big, modern and you can almost hear it calling your name. You quickly strip, eager to get it going as fast as possible. When you turn it on, the water is already warm, almost perfect temperature even. Letting out a sigh, you will yourself not to fall asleep right there and then.

After taking your time in the shower, you change into your new clothes. The underwear is black, so is the jeans, there’s a white t-shirt and a blue, warm jacket. They smell nice and make you feel so good. It’s been a while since you had something new like this. Walking out into the room, you sit down on the bed. The girl hasn’t returned yet, so you look out the window. Nothing much exciting, just grey rooftops of other office buildings.

You feel your eyes start to drop, and it’s just way too easy to flop down on your side and close them. You swear to yourself you are just going to rest your eyes a bit, but soon you are sleeping heavily, without a care in the world. The girl comes back not long after, but leaves as soon as she sees you have fallen asleep. Mr Penguin strictly told her that she wasn’t to wake the guest if they were asleep, so she closes the door as softly as she can, letting you remain blissful in your dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I know I'm a bit behind on that, but ya know ;P  
> I think this actually is the longest chapter I have ever written! But I'm soooo happy people are liking it so far! I never really thought this would go as well as it has, this was more self indulgent than anything in the beginning! Definently gonna post more, I have som nay ideas of how it's gonna go, but that's for the future me to figure out! So thank you all yet again! :D


	6. Sleep well?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up is disorienting and the nice bed certainly isn’t helping.

When you wake, there’s a black sky and shining lights outside your window. Blinking, it takes a while for you to process here you are, half asleep and rolled into the covers. You jolt up, not sure how long you have slept. You look around the room, taking in your surroundings again. Nothing have changed, the only new thing in the room is your violin case next to your bag with a small note on top. You get up and take the note, unfolding it carefully. Inside with neat handwriting it says: 

“Join me downstairs when you wake up -Penguin” There’s that name again, you don’t know if you would ever call him other things than your mystery man, even now that you know your name(s). You decide to just do what the note says. You don’t know whether to take your bag and case with you, but in the end you decide to leave them there, secretly hoping you will be able to return to the room, maybe even sleep some more. You pad down the hall, down the stairs, and back down the second hall.

The only light is the one in the hallway; it’s dark under the doors and quiet. You listen outside to door into the big room on the other side. You can hear low voices, but you take a chance that you won’t be yelled at for coming in. You push down the handle, slowly opening the door. The chatter stop, and everyone in the room turns to face you, who is half hiding behind the door. There is a few guys that you don’t recognize and Oswald. He claps his hands when he sees that it’s you. 

“Now gentlemen, it was nice doing business with you all, but now I need to take care of an important guest.” All of the men quickly gather together the papers they had in front of them, and put them into folders and suitcases. Within a few minutes you and Oswald are the only left in the room. The fire is burning brightly and heartily in the background. You can’t quite fathom that Oswald called you important; however you choose to say nothing, letting Oswald speak first yet again.

“Slept well?”

“Yes, the shower and new clothes were really nice, so it made me sleepy, didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“No worries, it was expected. You seemed worn out, and a proper bed was really good for you. It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has.” You have no shame in admitting the truth; you had actually forgotten how good it felt. Weird that you had one time taken that luxury for granted.

“Since you are still here, would you mind joining me for some dinner?” You are taken out of your thoughts by Oswald speaking, making you return to the real world yet again. His offer is tempting to say the least, but you worry you might overstay your welcome. The hunger in your stomach however screams at you to accept.

“Yes that would be nice.” Your stomach lets out a gurgle to say that it fully agrees with your answer. Oswald seems amused by it, but gracefully doesn’t mention it. 

“Join me in the kitchen then, come along.” Oswald goes over to the door you came in with him earlier that day (or yesterday, you are not sure how long you have slept). You follow right behind him, now that you think about it you feel yourself starving. Oswald leads you back to kitchen you passed on your way in, heading for the fridge. Unsure of what to do, you stop just inside the door. Oswald opens the fridge and looks around a bit before taking out a plate of sandwiches wrapped in plastic wrap. 

“Hope these are okay.” Yet again your stomach lets out a sound, just as loud as the previous one. You just nod, feeling embarrassed over your own body betraying you in such a way. Oswald brings the plate over to the kitchen bar. He takes a seat on one of the stools there, supporting his chance on the chair and unwrap the sandwiches. You take a seat next to him, grabbing a sandwich and start eating.

Neither of you talk really, except from some idle comments about the weather, and how nice the food is. When you are finished, Oswald wraps up the few sandwiches that are left and puts them back into the fridge. 

“Let me follow you back to the room, it is way too late for you to leave now.” You are about to protest, but you can almost feel yourself fall asleep, so you just nod. You both start walking, almost side by side. He doesn’t walk as fast as you know he can, you are grateful for that, being way too tired to keep up. This trip is to taken in silence, not a word is said between you two. Oswald doesn’t say anything before you are outside the door marked with a B (which you have foolishly begun to think of as yours).

“You can use my name you know.”

“Which name, your real one or your nickname?”

“Whatever you prefer.”

“I’ll just call you Mr, Cobblepot then, I think that fits you best.” 

“Many would disagree with out on that you know; penguin is something I have always been called because of my walk. A penguin is the first they think it’s like when they see me. I used to hate it, but I made it my own now.”

“I don’t think like that, the first time I saw you I thought you looked powerful. You had a limp and a cane, but you still you walked fast and your head held high. Cobblepot fits better because it’s a name unlike any other I have heard, just like you.” Oswald seems surprised with your answer; he ducks his head, certainly to hide the small smile from you.

“Good night then dear guest.”

“Goodnight Mr. Cobblepot. And you know you can call me my name too.” This time Oswald makes no effort to hide his small smile. Closing the door behind you, you quickly undress to just the shirt and underwear and slip under the duvet. You’re really not looking forward to leaving tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's and update yey! :D Sorry it has taken me so long, but school has been absolutley killing me... But I'm back and hopefully it's more quiet in the future so I can update more often. For now, hope you all like this new chapter and thank you for enjoying my story so far :3


	7. An offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time it's morning and an offer is made.

The sun shining through your window is what brings you back to consciousness. You blink, still disoriented from sleep. When you realise where you are, you jerk up and out of the bed. You are sure you have overstayed your welcome by now. You look for your clothes, not wanting to leave with the new ones you have been given, they were after all something you borrowed. However, your old clothes are nowhere to be found, so you have to let it be. You redress in the rest of the clothes and take a quick trip to the bathroom.

Throwing your bag over your shoulder and taking the violin case in hand, you are ready to leave. You throw one last look to the bed before leaving the blue room, already longing for another night in a proper bed. You quietly tip down the hallway and down the stairs to the next hallway. You don't even know what time it is, but it can't be to early since you can see light coming from under Dr. Hewitt's door and a shadow moving trough it. You can't hear anyone though. You quietly open the door to the room you came in through (a meeting room of sorts?), poking your head out to look if anyone is there.

Oswald and Butch is standing next to the fireplace, talking in low and hushed voices, but they have yet to notice you. You try to slip out quietly, but the door closing door is loud enough to draw attention from both men.

"Ahh, leaving already friend?" You can't find yourself to speak, so you just nod in answer to Oswald's question.

"It's a shame, you sure you don't want to stay longer?"

"I don't want to overstay my welcome."

You could never. But before you go, let me at least give you this." Before you can ask what it is, Oswald picks up a box that you didn't notice before, walking to you with it. You hesitantly take it when he gives it to you, wondering what could be inside.

"Go on, open it." The suggestion is easy to follow, your own curiosity taking over. You kneel down, putting the box on the floor. Opening it you are shocked to find a violin, almost a replica of the one you used to have. You are stunned, unable to speak yet again.

"I thought since your old one got destroyed, you would need a new one to play." Oswald speaking brings you back into action, and before you can even register what you are doing, you have lept up and are hugging him, almost toppling the both of you. You let go of him quick, ever so aware that you might have crossed a line.

"Oh, thank you, thank you! I don't ever know how I could repay you!"

"Well, you could play for me once and again, that would be a good start." Oswald smiles at you, although you don't notice, to busy staring in awe at your new violin.

"That's all? No other catches?"

"No. And of course you are welcome to stay here if you want, and come and go as you like." 

"I... I... I don't know what to say, this is too much..."

"No, not at all. You are a extraordinary good violinist and I love classical music, so me asking you to stay is all because off selfish reasons." You are surprised, you know you are good, but you didn't think he thought that much of your playing.

"If that's all, I would really like to stay." Oswald breaks into a grin.

"Wonderful! I'll have someone show you around the place so you can get more familiar with it, and then you can do whatever you want." He touches your shoulder, leading you towards the door out to the first hallway. You have to contain a shudder.

"I would love if you played for me tomorrow night if that is okay?"

"Yes, of course Mr. Cobblepot." You won't say no of course, Oswald have been nothing but kind and giving, so of course it's okay. You can't believe how lucky you are, just a day ago you had nothing left, now you have a comfortable place to sleep and a new violin. He really is a savior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, it's been way too long. I've been so involved in other fandoms that I have fallen a bit out of the Gotham fandom, but with this I'm trying to get back into it :3 Sorry for the long wait!


	8. The policeman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I haven't watched Gotham in forever and it's been over a year since the last update. Hope someone is still reading this.

You quickly adjust to life living in Oswald's building. True to his word you are free to leave as you want, although you find yourself back most nights, not wanting to give up what you have come to think of as you room. It seems like you're not the only one, a week after Oswald made his offer the silver B on your door is gone, replaced by a small plaque with a picture of a violin, and your name engraved in cursive, silver letters.

Most people you meet there seems to like you, or at least tolerate you. People come and go as they please, some more often than others. They are all very different; there are punks, serious business people, and not very surprisingly, people from both sides of the law.

So when someone clears their throat when you are sitting on one of the counter tops while eating a sandwich and reading a book, you aren't at all unprepared seeing a man who pretty much radiates cop. You give a little small wave as a hello since your mouth is full of food.

"Have we met before?" You shake your head, stretching your arm and giving him your name after you put the sandwich down and swallow the food in your mouth, still holding the book to keep your place in the story.

"James Gordon." You notice that he doesn't give his occupation, but you presume you know what it is. You smile at him.

"So Gordon, what brings a cop like yourself to Mr. Cobblepot?" Normally you don't stick your nose in Oswald's business and things, but you are a bit curious. Gordon seems like a man that takes his occupation seriously. He stiffens at the mention of his work.

"Do you know who I am?" Gordon notes that you use Penguin's last name instead of his nickname like people usually do. Interesting.

"No, but the cop thing wasn't hard to guess. And no worries, even if I did, it's not as if I have people to tell bout it." Gordon seems to relax a little bit at that, even if minutely. 

"We just had some topics we needed to discuss." He answers gruffly, not elaborating, and you don't push him to either.

"What about you? You seem....normal, so what are you doing here?" You smile at Gordon, gesturing to your violin.

"I play music for Mr. Cobblepot, and in return, he feeds me and offer me shelter so I won't have to find food and live around dumpsters." Gordon are silent for a few seconds, before reaching out towards your violin, looking towards you for permission before touching it. You nod, he picks it, carefully turning it over in his hands. You doubt he knows much about violins, but he's careful with it. 

You are right, Gordon doesn't know anything really about violins, but he can recognize good craftsmanship when he sees it, and the violin in his hands is just that. It's also very well taken care of, it even shines a little in the pale lights of the kitchen. He assumes the violin can't have been cheap, especially with Penguin's taste for things of quality. He puts the violin back down on the counter gently. Just as he does so, a guy with snake piercings and dark brown fringe appears in the doorway to the hallway.

"Mr. Penguin would like to see you now." You nod, hopping down from the counter with light feet.

"It was nice meeting you Gordon, maybe we'll see each other again." You pick up your violin, leaving him alone in the kitchen as the guy also disappears. While Gordon sets his course for the elevator, he wonders how you came to work for Penguin. He knows there's probably no reason to look into you, but you seemed a bit out of place, to calm and kind for a place like Oswald's. When he gets back to the station, he's going to see if he can find anything, he's curious about what he'll find.


End file.
